Come Home
by Co-Quill-Eon
Summary: When Damon appears in Elena's room drunk and distraught, Elena tries her best to calm him down. :: Takes place during 2x1 The Return ::


"You're the liar here, Elena."

At those words her heart skips a beat, then begins to pound against her ribs, and all she can do is shake her head numbly. "There is something going on between the two of us, and you _know _it. And you're lying to me," he stands, and she eyes him warily as he walks the short distance separating them so that he's standing directly in front of her, "and you're lying to Stefan, and most of all you're lying to yourself... I can prove it."

It's not a romantic kiss; it's desperate, and hard, and painful in more ways than one, and she feels something rip and ache in her chest. She pulls back from his harsh lips, trying to catch her breath. "Damon, don't," she pleads. "What's wrong with you?"

"Lie about this." His eyes are steely and determined, daring her, and Elena is a little frightened; she doesn't know what to do.

"Stop it, you're better than this, come on." She's begging now.

His eyes are a little wild in their desperation when he says, "That's where you're wrong." He moves in to press his lips to hers again, but she won't let him. Bending backwards she forces him off.

"No, no, no, Damon! I care about you, _listen_ I care about you" she insists trying to calm him down. "I do, but-" At her words, his expression becomes tinged with hope; a look so naked and honest it breaks her heart, and causes tears spring to her eyes. A tiny smile plays on his lips and in his eyes - _God_ his _eyes _- are filled with the most emotion she's ever seen him express in all the time that she's known him.

The words she's about to utter die in her throat. She can't say it. She can't break him like this because she _does _care about him, so much, and she can't do that to him. Not like this, not so cruelly.

Quite suddenly, the frantic urgency of the atmosphere shifts and instead everything seems to calm. Time seems to slow, and Elena is aware of his whole body; every breath he takes that he doesn't need, the feel of his fingertips on the exposed skin of her neck, the small quake to those fingertips as his body trembles slightly.

As if in a dream like state, she raises her hands to cup his face, to stroke his cheekbones with her own fingertips, and his small hopeful smile widens minutely. He smooths his hands down her frame, and pulls her body to his, but when he lowers his face to hers she doesn't let him kiss her again. She chooses, instead, to slide one hand into his hair; the strands are silky soft, and she can't stop touching him now that he's still, and she's started on her own volition. Damon's eyes slide shut, and he almost sags into Elena's touch and his face is so _open_. So trusting. No, she can't say what she was going to say - that it's always been Stefan, that it was always Stefan, not now when he's drunk, and vulnerable, and so obviously broken. She will tell him - tell him that he's not the one she loves in that way, but not tonight. Tonight she needs to calm him down, show him that he can _always be _this way with her, because this side of him is so _beautiful_ it takes her breath away.

"Elena... what's going on in here?"

She manages to take her eyes from Damon's peaceful face and looks over to see Jeremy in her doorway. His eyes are darting between the two of them, and his gaze lingers on her soothing hands and his grip on her waist. She can't muster up enough energy to adjust their stance, but manages to say, in a slightly tremulous voice, "Nothing, Jeremy, it's okay. Just... go back to bed." Jeremy's eyes narrow in suspicion, and he doesn't move. "Jeremy... please." She feels so tired suddenly, drained, and he must hear it in her voice because he stays still for a few more moments before giving a final look and leaving.

Elena swallows hard and turns her gaze back to Damon's face – she sucks in a startled breath when she sees his eyes are once again open. So bright, and clear, and piercing, his eyes hold hers as he raises one hand to brush her cheek. Before she can stop herself, Elena lets out a small sigh. Her eyelids flutter and she feels him pull her closer.

Elena opens her eyes at the movement, and says again, as she run her nails gently through his hair, "I care about you _so much_, Damon-" her voice breaks but she clears her throat and continues. "But we can't do this tonight."

"Why not?" His voice is low and carries a tone of urgency, like he's forgotten he has forever.

She thinks quickly. What can she say that won't leave him distraught, but won't give him false hope in something that won't happen? "Because... because you're drunk." And it's true. He must be very drunk to do this, to act this way. "You've been drinking, and I don't want this, don't want to talk about this, when you're not sober."

His eyes search her face, as if looking for the lie, even though technically what she says is the truth. She means it, and it must show in her expression, because finally he sighs and nods, and her heart unclenches slightly.

They hold each other for a few long moments. So close to his, her body hums with energy. Her mind is waging war against itself, because even as she tells herself Stefan is the one for her, being in Damon's arms, having him all around her, feels so utterly right that she can barely manage to function; she feels the urge to keep him here with her mounting steadily, and it terrifies Elena. Her heart skips another beat when the image of herself and Damon wrapped around each other in bed, his head on her chest, flashes before her eyes and Elena has to break the silence before she does something she won't regret as much as she should. She manages to keep her voice low and soothing as she says, "I want you to go home. Just... go home and... calm down. Relax and think, _please_, and then we'll deal with this okay?" She runs her nails softly through his hair again, and he gives a slight shudder in response, his grip on her waist tightening momentarily. "I promise, Damon, you and I will talk about this, _all_ of it." He nods again and rests his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. She allows her eyes to close as well, and she breathes him in.

How is she going to do this? How can she do this without sending him off the deep end? Before she just suspected how he felt about her; Isobel did throw it out there, and of course Stefan was worried, but she didn't know the extent of Damon's feelings, then. But now she knows. Elena knows now that he's so deeply in love with her that it makes him near crazy, and honestly she doesn't know how to deal with that. She wouldn't know what to do with so much emotion even if she wasn't with Stefan.

Something she can recognize, but cannot readily identify begins to unfurl inside of her at the thought, at the knowledge of knowing she can be loved like this - so fully and purely. It makes her head spin and the air feel too thin.

She feels him move, and then there is a soft press of lips against her own. His mouth is pillow soft, and he tastes so _good _and she wants more. Elena gasps into his mouth at the surprisingly electric tingle the kiss produces, a sensation so different than the rough press of mouths less than fifteen minutes ago.

Her eyes fly open, but at the same moment the air shifts, and he's gone.

**A/N: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this. I am contemplating continuing a short story in this vein, but I'm not totally sure yet. For now it remains a one shot. Let me know what you all think. **

**xoxo**


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